


Finding Peace

by LeDiz



Series: The 48: Cardcaptor Sakura [2]
Category: Cardcaptor Sakura
Genre: F/M, Li clan, consequences of not catching the clow, post-movies, syaoran with his own kind of magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 02:16:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7666444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeDiz/pseuds/LeDiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Syaoran has always been told he's the strongest magician the Li clan has ever seen. But he didn't catch the Clow Cards, and didn't become the master, and really just didn't seem to be much of a magician at the end of the day. So what was he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Peace

Wake up, dampen senses, get up, exercise, dampen senses again, dodge Mei Lin, eat breakfast, dodge Mei Lin again, go to school… ignore stabbing connection from in front of him, try to concentrate through maths with second stabbing connection, dodge Mei Lin again while trying to get lunch, chat with Takashi, ignore stabbing connection some more… either expend too much energy fighting Clow Cards or end up missing out entirely… berate self for screwing up, train, dampen senses, eat dinner, homework…

Syaoran set down his pen, frowning at the dictionary. Why was his brain cycling through the same things he did every day? He couldn’t concentrate like this.

“Syaoran?”

He didn’t look up at Mei Lin’s call, just continued down to put on his shoes. “I’m going for a run.”

“A run?”

It was strange. He knew it. He didn’t run for exercise. He ran to train, and usually only at school. But he didn’t answer her, just finished lacing his sneakers.

“Syaoran?”

“I’m leaving,” he said, and did, ignoring her shout after him.

Syaoran. Syaoran, Syaoran, Syaoran. “Xiao Lang,” he muttered as he stepped out of the apartment complex, and started off fast.

The Li clan had always spoken in Japanese as much as Chinese. Their magic was all in Japanese, in deference to Clow, even if they wrote, lived and behaved as Chinese. He’d never thought about how they pronounced their names either. Xiao Lang… no. He’d always been Syaoran.

He ran, pushing himself harder as if it would block out the strange thoughts.

He felt like that was all he was doing lately. Ever since that stupid fortune back in Hong Kong, he’d been blocking out things he didn’t want to think about.

“ _You live for that which you search for, and that will never change. But you will not be its master_.”

“Shut up!” he snarled at himself, and dove into a full sprint.

He could still remember coming home from that, confused, devastated, lost… his mother had just looked at him, and he hadn’t said a word before she said, “You must uphold our honour, Syaoran.”

So he’d come to Tomoeda. He’d come and he’d tried. He was trying so damn hard…!

Except that he wasn’t.

He hadn’t been for a while now.

That stupid Power. He’d stopped time, he should have just let her lose the tug of war and then…!

He hit a pebble and stumbled, then crashed into the ground, where he just lay for a second, curling his fists against the stone. After a moment, he pushed himself to his knees and gazed at the ground.

“ _Ah, our Little Wolf_!” his sisters had teased.

“ _So dependable_!”

“ _Always does just what’s expected of him_!”

“ _But I wonder if that’s enough_?”

He clenched his eyes shut and hated all four of them for a second. Hated them for teasing him. Hated them for not being more powerful magicians. Hated them for being in Hong Kong when he was here. Hated them for not being the head he was supposed to be.

A soft bell caught his attention, jerking him up out of his thoughts and forcing him to pay attention to his surroundings. He scrambled to his feet when he saw he was in front of the Tsukimine shrine, and there, at the entrance, was Teacher Mizuki.

She gazed at him quietly, and he glared at the connection trying to stab its way into his heart. That was what he hated about her. What he didn’t trust. He was used to magic that swirled around a person, the glowing presences that he had to block out every day. He could even handle Kinomoto’s magic, forgiving the way it stabbed at him because she wasn’t trained – didn’t know how to control it. But this woman… she wasn’t like Kinomoto. She knew how to use her powers. The connection trying to draw him in couldn’t be unconscious.

She was trying to make him want to be near her, and he hated her for it.

“Blood,” she said softly, and he flinched back, raising a fist defensively. She raised her hand to point at his head. “You’re bleeding, Li-kun.”

Despite himself, his fingers rose to his temple, and he swiped away the wetness there.

“I wonder what you’re running from, Li-kun?” she asked gently. He narrowed his eyes, then turned on his heel and kept going.

He didn’t like it when magic messed with people’s hearts, let alone his own. Hearts were confusing enough. And the feeling she tried to make him feel… just like around Tsukishiro… He clenched his eyes shut again and tried to run the thought down. It wasn’t the same! It couldn’t be the same.

It was just like… just like…

Just like it had been when he met Kinomoto, that first time. He’d seen her at the museum, and that same stab, weaker than it was now, had gone right through him. It was only because of how weak it was that he knew it was subconscious, but it changed when she knew he was there. When she looked at him, that first day in class, he’d felt her power. Untapped and untrained, but there, hovering under the surface.

He’d hated her for that, too.

He didn’t know what it was like, to have untapped power. Ever since he could remember, he’d been training. Building everything up to be stronger than he was. Why did she get to be normal? How come she got to be normal _and_ chosen? She didn’t have to work for anything, but the cards chose her! Cereberous chose her! When he’d been working his whole life and nothing in the whole world had ever…!

“Shut _up_!” he snapped, and started sprinting again.

He’d have to stop soon – he was running too hard and fast to keep it up. He saw the park ahead and slowed his pace, crossing the bridge at a walk and downright strolling into the Penguin Park.

He’d tried to keep hating Kinomoto, blaming her power on his urge to help her, protect her. But that wasn’t it. Not really. It was just like everyone at school. He tried so hard to keep them out, but they just kept…

It was the first time anyone except his sisters had teased him. The first time anyone had laughed with him, told him when he was being silly, and really, truly respected him for what he could do, not who he was.

He stared up at the penguin, letting his breathing return to normal. “I’m tired,” he mumbled, and let himself sink down to sit on one of the little penguin seats, still gazing up at the emperor.

“ _Descendent of Clow, you will uphold our family’s honour_.”

That was probably the closest his mother had ever come to praising him outright. But when she’d met Kinomoto…

In twenty-four hours, she’d gotten more open affection from his mother than he had in ten years.

Why couldn’t he hate her for that? That normal, untrained girl that could just drag everyone in… But it was just like his sisters. They were congratulated for high marks, he was told to get higher next time. He didn’t hate them; it was just the way it was. He was heir to the Li clan, he had to…

He had to…

He shouldn’t be helping her, whatever else he had to do.

Why was he helping Kinomoto, instead of…

Instead of upholding his family’s honour…?

“ _What does it matter if you’re not Master of the Clow_?” Mei Lin had asked, after the fortune. “ _You’re plenty powerful without them already_!”

For once, he couldn’t just ignore her. He’d snapped. “ _The Clow Cards are part of the Li Clan! I’m supposed to get them back_!”

“ _Why_?”

“ _Because it’s my duty! They’re supposed to return this generation, and if I can’t get them back as heir to the Li Clan, our honour…_!”

She’d just given him that look she sometimes did, when he said he needed to study, not play, or if he couldn’t eat sweets in public because it wasn’t seemly. “ _Magic is part of the Li Clan, but I’m a Li, and I don’t have magic. Are you saying I don’t have clan honour_?”

“ _N- no!_ _That’s different_!”

“ _You are! You are, you are! Syaoran, you meanie_!”

He hadn’t meant that, and he was pretty sure she’d known it too.  But that was how Mei Lin was…

Mei Lin. Mei _Ling_. He closed his eyes, over-enunciating the Chinese pronunciation in his head.

Mei Lin didn’t have magic power, even though it was what their clan was famous for. She more than made up for it by being good at everything else. She was just as good at hand-to-hand as he was, though she wasn’t much good with a sword. But she could sing better than him, and play music. She was a great cook. She was good at all of that without an ounce of magic, and so Syaoran had never understood it when people acted like her inability to use magic meant anything. She didn’t have magic power, so it didn’t matter if she was any good at it.

But he wasn’t like Mei Lin. He _did_ have magical power. He’d heard his sisters once talking about how he was the strongest magician their clan had seen in decades. Some of the elders seemed shocked when he did their tests. The ten elements came naturally to him, especially electricity, and everyone said that was hardest to control.

And yet the Clow Cards…

He pulled them out of his pocket to stare at. From all his lessons, he knew that the four elemental cards were strongest, but Time and Return took more power from the wielder. He wondered if they had chosen him for that, or if he’d simply thought faster, to earn them over Kinomoto. Most of the cards… they loved Kinomoto. Even before they met her – they heard about her, and they _loved_.

He wondered if his own cards resented him from keeping them from her.

What would he do, when Kinomoto claimed the last card? Go back to Hong Kong in disgrace? Face the elders and admit he’d known, almost since the beginning, that he couldn’t win against her?

What would they do to him?

What would his mother say?

Her only order to him – defend the Family Honour. He was failing. He was going to fail.

“You’re so sure, Young Master?”

He frowned, trying to ignore the vague presence in front of him. A spirit, but not one with any great magical power. Just enough to materialise in this world when needed. They had bothered him a lot back home, though they weren’t so common in Japan.

“Most people that are so stubborn are determined to succeed. Why are you so set on failure?”

He closed his eyes again and tried to dampen his senses. He’d almost succeeded in pushing the pin-pricks of magical power throughout the city into nothingness when a cool hand touched his cheek, slamming him back to awareness to the point that he could smell flowers.

“You look so tired, Syaoran Li,” the spirit whispered.

“I am tired,” he agreed, almost without meaning to. “I’m tired of…”

“Of…?” she prompted.

“Of…” Kinomoto. The Cards. Mei Lin and Tsukishiro and that teacher and his useless powers and the Li and training and studying and cooking and cleaning and getting dressed and…

Another hand lay against his other cheek, pulling his face up to meet the eyes of a beautiful woman. She smiled at him softly. “You should rest, Syaoran Li. You need it. Just rest.”

And for a moment, he nearly did, his eyelids lowering under their own weight, shoulders relaxing… until he realised what was happening and shoved her off and away, snatching his charm from his neck in the same movement. “Stay away from me!” he yelled, but had barely gotten his sword in hand when a shout cut across the park.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing, brat?!”

He flinched and spun around, glare intensifying when he saw Touya Kinomoto running into the park, no doubt on the way home from one of his million jobs, judging from the pack over his shoulder. Then he realised he was still holding his sword and glanced at the spirit, who just gazed back at him sadly.

He looked at Touya again, eyes narrowed. The older Kinomoto, who belonged to a different realm. He was pretty sure Touya had power, but kept it hidden away. Hidden from even his sister.

Syaoran could play that game too. “Playing,” he said, hefting the sword lightly, as if it were made of tin, not steel. “A kid can’t play in the park at night?”

“Like you’re a kid,” Touya ground out, though his eyes flicked toward the spirit. Syaoran pretended to look straight through it, as if not knowing what he saw there, and Touya scowled.

They both knew better. Syaoran had never been a good liar.

“What are you doing out here at night?” Touya asked finally. “Is Sakura out here too?”

“W-what? Why would that person be out here?” he demanded, then flicked a hand and started stalking past him. “Whatever. I’m going home.”

He was almost out of hearing distance when the spirit spoke again, not to him, but Touya. He didn’t make out the words, but after a few minutes, he felt Touya’s power close in behind him and could guess. “Why are you following me?”

“Who’s following you?” he asked, deadpan, and so Syaoran did his best to ignore him.

The worst thing about this was that now he’d established the sword as a toy, he couldn’t put it away. Which meant that he was walking through town with a magical artefact out in the open – a very sharp sword at that, which could get him arrested. Or at least asked a lot of questions.

What was it about the Kinomoto family that they had to make things so –

“Kinda late for a kid to be walking around on his own, isn’t it?”

“What do you care?” he snapped over his shoulder, and Touya huffed.

“Who said I did?”

They continued walking in silence for a few minutes, Syaoran glaring at everything unless he noticed someone. Then he would have to pull back, try to look unassuming, and then hate the world when they continued to look worried until they saw Touya following.

Because he was a kid, and Touya wasn’t, but he probably looked like Syaoran’s older brother or something, walking his impertinent little brother home from a game…

Syaoran clenched his eyes shut, tightened his grip on his sword, and stopped walking. Touya stopped as well, and Syaoran scowled, feeling eyes burning into his back. “If you’re going to follow me, you should make yourself useful.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Just shut up and walk.”

Amazingly, Touya did so, catching up and then watching Syaoran from the corner of his eye as they walked. Just like always. That was another reason Syaoran didn’t trust Touya – he was always watching. Not just him, but Kinomoto and Kero and all of them. Syaoran doubted he knew everything that was going on, but he sure knew _something_. And still, he said nothing. With the power he hid, and the knowledge he had, he still pretended like he had no idea about anything.

Despite himself, Syaoran wondered if he could do that, if he and his sisters hadn’t been raised as… well, as part of the Li Clan. If they hadn’t known about magic, could he have hidden his from them? Could he have lied? Said there was nothing there when he saw spirits, or that he had forgotten errands when he had to run off and deal with magic? Would they have believed him?

Not that it was the same anyway. His sisters weren’t Kinomoto. They didn’t squeal and cry and go ‘hoee’ at the slightest provocation… Well. Not unless it was cute. They didn’t fill people with that urge to protect them from everything. That need to help them, to make them strong.

They didn’t make him want to chase away all the things that might ever make them lose their smile.

The thought was accompanied by a mental image of Kinomoto’s grin, and Syaoran stiffened, blushing. Those thoughts…! They kept coming, more and more frequently, and he didn’t understand! He’d never had thoughts like that – not even about Tsukishiro! And he wanted to be around Tsukishiro all the time, and make him happy, and do whatever he needed, so if he was the type to have thoughts about cute smiles and pretty eyes, they should be about Tsukishiro, not Kinomoto!

Even though she really did have pretty eyes…

“Nngn!”

He’d stopped walking, and Touya was frowning at him again. Syaoran blushed even deeper, then quickly shook his head and tried to start running, but Touya caught his collar at the last second and yanked him back. Instinctively, Syaoran almost swung his sword, but he caught himself at the last second and switched to his left fist instead, making Touya let go and jump away defensively.

“What the hell, brat?!”

“You…!” Syaoran snarled. “You want to fight, or something?”

For a second, he thought Touya might accept, and he almost felt relief because he really, really needed to hit something, and being hit back might help too. But then Touya stopped and sighed. “I don’t hit kids. Let alone kids that look dead on their feet.”

“Who’re you calling a kid?” he demanded, but had to pull back at the look that got him. So he chose to sulk instead, glaring off to the side. “And I’m fine.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

Touya just looked forward again, waiting for Syaoran to continue moving – but not running.

After a few moments, he had little choice but to move forward, and so did, lowering his eyes to the path in front. He didn’t understand the thoughts he kept having about Kinomoto. They weren’t like the ones he had about that teacher – the powerful urge to make her happy. They weren’t like his feelings for Tsukishiro, either, where he would do anything he asked.

He didn’t like how he felt—no, how he _thought_ , because they weren’t feelings!—about Kinomoto. It was too… even if having them at all made sense, they were too conflicting. He wanted to protect her, but at the same time, he wanted her to grow and be strong on her own. He wanted to hold her sometimes, but he wanted to run beside her, too.

He wanted to show her his magic – all the things he could do that had nothing to do with Clow Cards. He even wanted to show her the things he’d never shown anyone but Mei Lin. The magic that no one had taught him, that he’d just found. Then he wanted to watch her too, have her show off all she could do and be and…

They’d reached his apartment block. He stared up at it. At the lights he could see from his own apartment.

He didn’t really want to go up there.

“You know, brat…”

He jerked around, glaring again, but Touya wasn’t looking at him.

“You’d sleep better if you stopped caring so much about what you were supposed to be.”

That, Syaoran decided, was crossing a line, and he growled, stalking toward the door. “And _you’d_ sleep better if you were honest with your sister. _Thank you_ for looking out for me,” he added darkly, and wished he could slam the automatic door shut behind him.

Instead, he had to glance back at the elevator, and took a little bit of pleasure in the blank shock on Touya’s face.

Almost worth the horrible thoughts he’d had all night.

Almost.

 

* * *

 

It was very dark, and very quiet, and the lodge was impossibly still. But still Syaoran buried himself under the covers, and then pulled his pillow down to crush it over his head.

It didn’t block out the pinpricks.

According to the Elders, the pinpricks were a sign of Syaoran’s magical abilities. He had a great sense, they had once said – even untrained, he could tell when magic was nearby.

It was a sign of his lack of discipline, he was now told, that his senses overflowed until he couldn’t separate conscious magic from the natural. If he was a real Li, they so very nearly said in every letter, he would be able to sense Clow’s power before it did anything. He would have found it by now, sealed it away, and then let the Clow Cards fade as Sakura failed.

But he was a failure of a Li. He’d failed with the cards, and now he was failing to uphold their honour by taking advantage of the situation to avenge their ancestor’s defeat.

So who could really be surprised that all he ever sensed these days was a constant low thrum of magic, punctuated by the eternal pinpricks of spiritual power jabbing at him from all angles.

He still had useful senses, when he wasn’t distracted. If he was focussed, or had trained properly in the morning, he could sense when magic was coming. Not as well as Sakura, these days, but… but then, he was usually distracted, these days.

But even so, it was hard to deal with. Even now, when there was nothing going on, and Sakura was down the hall, far away, it was almost like there was some big, mystical force right there in the room with him.

He huffed to himself with an unamused smile. Maybe Yamazaki was the great power messing with Sakura.

With a loud sigh, he threw off the covers and stood up, grabbing his jacket off the bed post in one movement. He wasn’t getting anywhere trying to sleep, and he wouldn’t until he calmed himself down and _focussed_. On something that wasn’t Sakura.

Despite himself, he stopped at the door, an odd, semi-conscious thought making him look back at Hiirawagiza’s bed. The strange boy was sleeping, but for some reason Syaoran couldn’t help staring at him for a second. As if he’d moved or said something or…

“Need to focus,” he muttered to himself, and left the room.

The snow was falling quietly outside the empty common room, and he stood for a moment, watching it remind him that his magic hadn’t saved anyone and never would. Sometimes he thought he really should just go back to Hong Kong. He hated the thought of giving up Sakura, especially without ever telling her, but…

He collapsed on the couch, completely uninspired to begin his focus training. Besides, he rationalised, someone could come in and how the heck was he supposed to explain the sword?

Magic pins were still grinding into his nerves from every angle, telling him about the snow falling, the fire crackling, the huge ball of magic that was Sakura, the ever-present Clow and the hundred people in this lodge, dreaming and completely unaware of the power of those dreams. He looked over at the fire and stared into the soul of the flame, watching the magic of light and heat intertwine and dance.

“Xiao Lang Li.”

He looked up, and was immediately mesmerised by an image of the moon shining in front of him. Suddenly, everything ceased to matter, including the voice in the back of his mind wondering why he was seeing a miniature moon inside a building. His thoughts went blank, his arms dropped to the side, and all he could do was stare at that beautiful orb of power.

“I thought, perhaps, that your devotion to the Star Mistress would have dulled it, but it seems you are a Li to the core,” a voice murmured. “A servant of the Moon, and entirely in its sway. Interesting to know, I suppose.”

Someone sat beside him, but he couldn’t turn to look. The moon was just…

 “Why are you awake, my dear descendent?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he murmured. “Couldn’t block out the magic.”

“Oh? Interesting. Most of the Li Clan would need the Rashin Ban to sense her power. Maybe your love for Sakura-san is stronger than I thought, to be so aware of her.”

The little voice in the back of his head was yelling now, telling him to forget the moon and look at what was right next to him. “It’s not just Sakura.”

“Hmm? Do you feel Clow?”

“I can.” Somehow, the little voice kept him from continuing, and explaining about the snow and the fire and everything else. It stamped down on his urge to explain everything in his head and started fighting to get him to just turn his head.

“Well, I suppose that’s appropriate for the Li Clan. You were raised from birth to recognise Clow’s magic, weren’t you?” There was a short pause, and something brushed his hair away from his eyes, almost fondly. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, my dear descendent. You can’t help what you were made to be, and you can’t help that you weren’t chosen.”

The moon dimmed, and with it, so did his energy, his eyelids sliding to half-mast.

“You are honourable, in all things. It is something I truly admire about you, and wish I could be so too. Your devotion to Sakura-san is not something you should be ashamed of. Nor is your heritage. The two are entwined – you and your clan should stop insisting they be mutually exclusive.”

His head fell back against the couch, his eyelids struggling to stay open. The little voice in his head seemed to have subsided too, becoming a whisper.

“Ignore your magic, and sleep, my dear descendent. You do deserve it.”

And then, there was nothing. Not even a dream.

He woke up in his bed, back in the dorm, to Yamazaki shaking him roughly and looking vaguely surprised about it. “Come on, Li, get up.”

“Huh?” His head felt thick, and even dragging his arm around to hold himself up seemed like a chore. “What?”

“You missed breakfast. We’re supposed to be leaving in an hour. Get up.”

He realised the other boys were looking at him worriedly. “You okay Li? Usually you’re up before any of us.”

“I’m fine,” he said automatically, and struggled to push himself upright, then force his legs out of the sheets. They got tangled, and he fell, yelling as he hit the floor. The other boys chuckled, reassured by the universe’s desire to mess with Syaoran’s coolness, while Yamazaki yanked him out of the sheets and to his feet.

Eventually he managed to stay upright, and he shook his head, trying to clear it. He still felt altogether too heavy and dumb. When he finally managed to look up, he stiffened, his fists clenching at the sight of Hiirawagiza smiling at him in that… way he did.

“Are you alright, Li-kun?” he asked quietly, that stupid smile telling him he knew the real answer.

Syaoran just growled and snatched his uniform to start changing.

 

* * *

 

Failure. Failure, failure, failure.

The thoughts and implications haunted him, every minute of every day. No one said it openly, of course – he was still the heir to the Li Clan and still their most powerful magician, but that just gave more reasons for them to have expected better.

Failure, failure, failure.

But even as he drilled, harder and longer than ever before, he couldn’t complain. He’d told her. She’d kept the bear. They might being implying he was useless, but she sure as heck had implied she didn’t care about that. And her letters… every week, her letters…!

So even as he trained in martial arts until he bled, studied until he couldn’t see, practised magic until every single spirit on all the islands couldn’t help but scream at him to either stop or let them eat him, still he felt triumphant.

Mei Lin wasn’t supposed to come to his house anymore (“She started all this! She made him weak with emotion!”), but he saw her at school. At lunch, when he read magic books and sometimes remembered to eat, she would watch him with wide, wavering eyes.

“Hey, Syaoran, the boys are playing soccer today,” she said, whenever a soccer ball was brought to class. “Why don’t you join in?”

“I have to read this.”

“I got a letter from Kinomoto-san this week. Do you want to read it with me?”

His eyes would flick up despite his concentration, but he knew what she was trying to do. He just smiled and shook his head. “That’s your letter. I have one too, at home.”

“But you’re better at Japanese characters than me! I might need your help!”

“I’ll lend you my dictionary.”

She sighed but relented, and he went back to his book.

It would all happen again, the next time she had something she thought might distract him, and she had an accomplice in Wei. On the days Syaoran was trusted to come home alone, Wei would meet him at the gate, and offer tea, talks on philosophy, concerns about his sisters – anything that he thought might give Syaoran a reason not to go to training.

But there was nothing they could do. Syaoran appreciated the thought, really, but the entire Clan needed him to prove he wasn’t the failure he’d already shown himself to be. If he could be strong enough, powerful enough, wise enough… then it wouldn’t matter that the Clow Cards were gone, or that Cereberous and Yue had a new master. If Syaoran could master the Sun and the Moon, even without Clow’s magic, then…

But that all went completely out of his head when the airline tickets were dropped in front of his eyes. “To Tomoeda?”

Mei Lin grinned, flicking the tickets up and giggling when Syaoran’s eyes followed them. “We’re allowed two weeks. Wei-san told Aunt that you were burning out! So you have to rest and recuperate! And Kinomoto-san has to tell you she likes you back!”

He blushed and stammered, trying to say he didn’t need rest without implying that he didn’t want to go. And that was as far as he got before his sisters swarmed in, cooing about how cute it was their little wolf was growing up and falling in love. And how he had to get photos of the cute boys that had been there before.

He didn’t get the photo, but he got something a million times better when he was still in magic-shock, sorting out the energies within him so he knew what was the cards, Sakura, Clow, and himself. When she started speaking, he could only look at her, the words not making any sense for several seconds until he had time to understand them.

Once he did, he forgot the magic still sorting itself out, to just focus on her entirely.

She liked him.

And then, even as he begged her to just wait for the magic to dissolve, she couldn’t help but leap into his arms, nearly knocking them both off the tiny platform, and she nearly hugged the life out of him.

And he could hug her back, tight against his chest. She fit so perfectly. She smelled like flowers. She was so warm. Her magic tingled where it touched his.

She stayed wrapped around his arm when they finally went out to the others, who first cheered that they’d won and then cheered when they noticed what Sakura was doing. Mei Lin actually tackled Syaoran out of Sakura’s arms with a triumphant squeal, while Daidouji hugged Sakura tightly and gave them both congratulations. They went in search of Cereberous and Yue and found Yukito letting Kero pretend to be a stuffed animal. Kero glared daggers at Syaoran while Yukito leaned over to give Sakura a soft smile.

“Congratulations, Sakura-chan,” he whispered, and both Syaoran and Sakura blushed, turning into each other slightly as if to hide from him.

“AH! You brat!”

And that put an end to their happy, conjoined glow, because for the rest of the afternoon, Syaoran was busy exchanging glares with Touya and Sakura explaining everything that had happened to Kero.

But for that day… that one, perfect day, he forgot about the Li Clan, and his failures, and everything he was supposed to be. He forgot about having to go home and explain what had happened to his mother. He forgot about what the Elders would say when he told them he’d almost sacrificed everything so Sakura could have everything else.

And that night, when they went back to the hotel, Mei Lin paused before entering her room, tilting her head in a tiny shrug. “Thank goodness, Syaoran-sama. I’m happy for you.”

He paused, and then closed the door he’d just opened to walk over to her. She blinked, but he kept her gaze steady. “Is this okay?”

For a second, he saw it in her eyes – her heart breaking just a little. But the smile she gave him was honest, if sad. “I told you before, didn’t I? I just want you to be happy.”

“Mei Lin…”

“But thank you. For worrying about me.”

He grimaced, then nodded once and turned away. “So stop calling me ‘sama’ already.”

“Syaoran!” she laughed, and jumped on his back, laughing even more when he wasn’t ready for it and almost fell. He complained, but she just hugged him tight. “Thank you, Syaoran.”

 He grumbled and waited for her to get off before going into his room. But he fell asleep with a smile, knowing that even if he was a failure when they went home, Mei Lin would stand by him, whether he asked her to be there or not.

 

* * *

 

He told his mother. Everything.

For a long time, she just stood there, and he fought the urge to cringe away.

She was angry.

His mother wasn’t normally angry, just mildly disappointed. But this time… He swallowed, only a lifetime of ritual keeping his eyes straight ahead.

She stepped around the table she’d been sitting at and came forward until she was directly in front of him. His fists clenched at the feel of her aura, not sure whether he felt more afraid or just determined to see this through.

He’d made his choice. He’d known he would have to live with the consequences.

But his mother had never been angry with him before.

Finally… finally she spoke. Barely contained fury. “Stop trying to sacrifice yourself,” she ordered, and then swept past him.

By the time he realised what she’d said and turned to stare at her again, she was gone.

 

* * *

 

Life didn’t change much, which he kind of thought was odd. He still trained, studied and practised, Mei Lin worried and tried to distract him, the Elders made snide comments and his sisters squealed over everything.

Now, Sakura’s letters were longer and more detailed, as she told him everything that happened in her life, and they would spend hours on the telephone, doing their homework together as best they could.

After a few months, Syaoran started going out and trying to calm the spirits clamouring after him. Much to Mei Lin’s distress, Syaoran actually found the ones after his blood far easier to handle than any of the others – he could just beat them up and go on his way. The ones after his spirit had the annoying habit of using the moon against him, and the others just whined so much! Of course, he could usually just deal with them the same way he did Mei Lin, but the spirit ones…

“There has to be some way for the moon to not be such an influence,” he sighed, and on the other side of the phone, Sakura hummed thoughtfully.

“I don’t know… what do you think, Kero-chan?”

“Nothing he can do about it,” the stuffed animal said bluntly, his voice slightly muffled from being further away from the phone. “He’s a Li. The Li Clan pulls its power from the moon, just like Clow’s Father’s Clan pulled from the sun. As long as he uses Li magic, the moon will have sway over him.”

“Does that mean that if he doesn’t use Li magic, it won’t?”

Kero laughed, and Syaoran sighed. “The only other magic we had was Clow, and now that you transformed the cards, the only Clow magic left is Hiirawagiza.”

She didn’t say anything, letting her silence suggest he contact him. He scowled. “I’m not asking him for anything.”

“He’s not a bad person, Syaoran. Everything he did was just to help me turn the cards.”

Syaoran glared at his homework and said nothing.

“Well, then, what about Teacher Mizuki –”

“No.”

“You know she did even less to make you mad than Eriol,” Kero pointed out, and Syaoran grunted. Sakura huffed back at him, and Kero made a vaguely amused noise. “Well, then I guess your only option is to ask Yue.”

“Yue?”

Contacting Yue turned out to be nearly impossible, because Sakura still hadn’t told her brother she knew he knew, and Yukito certainly wasn’t saying anything, despite even Syaoran knowing he probably knew. Not that it would have mattered. Yue seemed to distrust technology and mobile phones in particular. But eventually, a note came along with one of Sakura’s letters, in clear, careful Chinese script, signed with the symbol of the Moon.

“You are held in sway by my power, but your own never felt of the heavens,” he read softly, and frowned, not following at all. After a lot of consideration and debate, he took it to his Mother, who got that look she wore sometimes, when he failed to uphold their honour. Again, the lifetime of ritual kept him staring straight ahead instead of running.

Then she stood up. “Syaoran. Give me the sword.”

He did. She didn’t give it back.

 

* * *

 

“N-not that I think you will,” Mei Lin began awkwardly, as they walked toward the arena, Syaoran staring straight ahead like he had been since the announcement. “But what happens if you lose?”

He couldn’t look at her. She was the one person in the clan that still believed in him. And he was about to lose even that.

His mother had taken his sword, and now he was going to be publicly and officially disinherited. They weren’t calling it that, of course – officially, this was a ceremonial battle to ascertain Syaoran’s place as head of the Li Clan. But if that was all it was, it should have been in another two years, when he turned sixteen, and he should have been allowed his sword and charms.

As it was, he was going in without even his robes, just himself in jeans and a t-shirt. He was going up against his second cousin, Jinfaa: twenty years old and a master of charms, wearing a cloak and robe full of them.

Wei could call this battle whatever he liked. Everyone, from Syaoran to his mother to Mei Lin, knew what this really was.

All because of that stupid note.

Still, Syaoran would face it head on. Jinfaa would enjoy beating Syaoran, probably with the lightning Syaoran had always shown him up with in their early lessons, but there was no way Syaoran would take it lying down. He was going out fighting, with whatever honour he had left. And then… then he would be free to go back to Japan, and Sakura, and be whatever she needed him to be.

He stepped into the arena and met his cousin’s smirk directly.

“Young Master,” Jinfaa greeted nastily. “I promise to take excellent care of your sword.”

Syaoran narrowed his eyes but said nothing, just waited for the ceremonial speech to begin. They were surrounded by the whole clan, who varied from mild concern to smug triumph. His mother stood with Jinfaa’s father on a dais at the edge of the arena, Syaoran’s ceremonial robes and sword on a pedestal between them. Jinfaa would probably claim them when he won…

Wei stepped up to the edge of the arena. His voice wavering slightly as he announced their purpose here, he raised his arm for silence. It came down, Syaoran tensed, and Jinfaa cast lightning.

At first, all he could do was dodge, leaping and flipping away from a constant barrage of strikes, but he wasn’t worried yet.

There were reasons Jinfaa had never been considered as heir, despite having just as direct a lineage as Syaoran. It wasn’t that he was bad at what he did. He was a powerful magician, but he was book-learnt and it showed. He always cast in full, saying whole incantations and performing entire movements, and he always cast in the set patterns. His dragons flew out in spirals, fire would blast directly forward, earth rose straight up and lightning would always fall in the same fifteen points, which seemed random unless you had studied the mystic stars for ten years and knew their shape from any angle.

Syaoran, on the other hand, had learnt at his mother’s feet, and was tested not on his ability to cast, but his ability to cast efficiently. He’d won half his training matches against Jinfaa simply by not naming the gods before he called them, or directing them in unusual patterns.

Of course, back then, he’d had charms too.

Once or twice, Syaoran had been able to call on the gods without tools, but he didn’t trust his strength that way. He’d resigned himself to his fate, but he was not losing this battle by using lesser versions of Jinfaa’s magic.

However, there was another reason Syaoran had been acknowledged as heir: he had never been _just_ a magician. He was a magus: a battle mage. He had trained to become one of the strongest martial artists in the clan, with sword or without. Jinfaa relied too heavily on his magic – his skills with the sword were mediocre, and his fingers were long and thin – magician hands, unsuited for use as fists. If Syaoran could get in close, somehow disarm him…

He clenched his eyes shut, relying on muscle-memory to keep dodging as he focussed on his inner energies. This was the magic he’d never shown anyone but Mei Lin, because he knew it was dirty and inelegant. This magic kept him upright on fresh snow and water, kept his limbs strong when he himself was tired, and cut out the cold and the heat when he didn’t have the right clothes. And he had just enough faith in it to ask it to get him close to Jinfaa.

His eyes snapped open and he dove, landing flat on his palms and rolling under the next lightning strike to come several metres closer to his cousin. Jinfaa had to cast again to redirect the bolts, and Syaoran took the time to run, only pulling back at the last second when the lightning crashed down in a tight circle around Jinfaa.

Too close for him to get past.

“Damn,” he muttered, and frowned when he saw Jinfaa smirk.

“Are you so stubborn that you won’t accept an honourable surrender?” he asked softly, too quietly for anyone outside the battlefield to hear. “I thought that was what you did, Young Master. Gave up power easily rather than fight.”

Syaoran clenched his fists, gathering energy. Maybe if he could put enough power in one fist, he could ignore the lightning and reach…

But then Jinfaa raised another charm, and Syaoran knew he wouldn’t have time. “Water dragon, come forth!”

Syaoran hit the dirt, pressing his face into the sand as the water spirals came close enough to spray his hair. He had to distract him. With that double-layered defence, there was no way Syaoran could hope to take the time to punch through. He needed Jinfaa to waver. Needed…

He grabbed a fistful of the arena sand and rolled, blocking out the pain and pressure from more than half his side getting pounded by the water dragon to stumble back to his feet. He almost growled at Jinfaa’s grin, just barely visible past the water and lightning, and focussed everything he could on the sand in his fist. He just needed a distraction, but if he was lucky, he’d get right through the gaps in the magic and slap a lump of sand right in the jerk’s face.

As he threw, he felt his magic respond, and so started running forward again, but very nearly ground to a stop as he saw not just his handful of sand, but a whole wave of gritty dirt surge up over his shoulder and plough through the water dragon. He blinked at it, then shook his head and kept running, bringing more focus to his now free hand, and the energy within it. The sand crashed into the lightning, dulling it just enough for Syaoran to reach through and snatch Jinfaa’s sword from his shock-loosened fingers.

“Wha-?!”

Taking the advantage, Syaoran swung around, scooping a handful of the still-falling water, and smashed his leg into Jinfaa’s side to knock him down. Then he tossed the water after him, smiling when he felt the remains of Jinfaa’s water dragon rise up and follow the movement to crash down and soak him into the dirt.

Syaoran very nearly grinned as he threw Jinfaa’s sword aside. He’d never tried to fight like this before – never tried to use the magic he’d discovered himself for more than physical advantage. To find out he could – to actually have a chance to maybe win this fight…!

“You little…!” Jinfaa threw out a charm, and Syaoran had only a second to recognise it and fall back. “God of fire, come forth!”

He tried to pull more water as a shield, but it had soaked into the ground and responded sluggishly, so all he could do was fall back, feeling the heat catch his hair and burn a few strands away. But he was more confident now – without Jinfaa’s casting sword, and with Syaoran’s magic responding as it was, they were essentially on even footing. Which meant Syaoran could –

“Jinfaa! Catch!”

They both looked up in shock, Syaoran’s eyes widening in disbelief as Jinfaa’s father threw the Ceremonial sword to his son. He caught it easily and swung it around, power surging up and over them as the sword responded to Li magic.

The Ceremonial sword. _Syaoran’s_ sword.

He didn’t even think. He just shoved himself upright and kicked, his heel catching Jinfaa’s hands and snapping them open. Syaoran snatched the sword back and followed the first kick with his other leg, straight into Jinfaa’s sternum.

Then he swung his sword— _his sword_ —up and around, fire from the sun catching on the blade as he pointed it at Jinfaa’s neck. “ _You will yield_!”

For a long minute, the arena was silent. Shock radiated around him like a solid wall.

Very slowly, Syaoran became aware of what he’d just done, and pulled back his sword, blinking rapidly when that made Jinfaa start breathing hard. Syaoran slowly straightened, and his cousin flailed around until he was on his hands and knees in front of him.

“Young Master. Forgive me.”

“Wha…?”

There was a whispering starting around the arena, a kind of hushed muttering of half-spoken sentences. He frowned, looking up and around the watching clan until his eyes finally fell to his mother.

She wasn’t wearing that look. For once, there was something else in her eyes. And that smile on her face… she was… triumphant?

Very slowly, she stepped off the dais and came down into the arena, walking slowly until she was directly in front of him. His eyes widened as she knelt in the muddy sand, meeting his gaze directly for a moment, before bowing her head.

“Xiao Lang Li, Magus of the Earth and Reflected Moon, Master of the Li Clan. I thank you to take care of us.”

“Hah?” he managed, before there was a loud shriek and he was bowled right off his feet by Mei Lin.

 

* * *

 

“Really? You’re really head of the clan now?”

He blushed, glad Sakura couldn’t see him over the phone. “Yeah.”

“That’s amazing, Syaoran-kun!”

“How?” Kero asked in the background. “Kids can’t be heads.”

He blushed a deeper red. Wei had explained it to him, over the proud, cooing squeals of his sisters as they hugged the life out of him. All along, his mother had known his magic power wasn’t like the rest of the Clan – where they were mostly taught, using tools and enchantments, he channelled power directly from the earth and moon. That, he explained, was how she’d known Syaoran could never have possibly handled the Clow cards, with their power under the sun. They would have conflicted with his own, as often as not. She’d never been disappointed in him – just sad that he’d never understood his own skills.

She’d called for the battle as a trial by fire, both for him and the Clan. By forcing him to rely on himself, she’d also forced him to prove to the whole clan that he was stronger, and that his decisions were made for good reasons.

It also cut off all that mutinous talk about his right to be heir, so she didn’t have to deal with it anymore.

“So what does that mean?” asked Sakura. “If you’re head of the clan, does that make you like a king or something?”

“Ah – n-no! Nothing like that.”

“Then…?”

“It just means I’m supposed to make decisions and stuff. Like how we use our magic, and who can learn it,” he explained awkwardly. He wasn’t really looking forward to the extra responsibility – it wasn’t a big job, but it meant settling a lot of stupid arguments. Which meant listening to a lot of stupid arguments.

“Wow! That sounds so important!”

“Kinda.”

“But then…” Sakura hummed in her throat, and he stiffened, looking at the phone warily. She made a few strangled, guilty-sounding noises. “If you’re head of the clan, does that mean you… have to stay in Hong Kong? Forever?”

He blinked, then frowned. He hadn’t really thought about it. “I… about that…”

“Oh… I see…”

She sounded so lost. He swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the receiver. “I – I’ll call you back!” he shouted, and hung up, already sprinting for the door.

 

* * *

 

“I’m so happy for you, Sakura-chan!” Daidouji cried, and then suddenly there was a video camera pointing at them. “And how lucky for me! Finally, finally, I can film Sakura-chan’s happiest face! Thank you, Li-kun!”

He blinked, not entirely sure how to respond to the gratitude. But when Sakura laughed and pressed deeper into his side, he could only smile and hold her closer, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. “Yeah…”

Five years ago, it wouldn’t have been possible. But now there were mobile phones and wirelessly-connected laptops. Syaoran was no longer allowed to go anywhere without a mobile phone thicker than most of his notebooks, but he was in Japan.

He was with Sakura.

Syaoran smiled, and finally, felt at peace with the world.

**Author's Note:**

> The 48 are a collection of unfinished fics saved to my hard drive. Given the Syaoran was my favourite character of CCS, it shouldn't be surprising that most of my fics for that are about him, and exploring the power he supposedly had but we never really saw him use.
> 
> So yeah. Hope you enjoyed!


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